Chocolate Cake
by snorkellingfish
Summary: It was time to meet the parents. Blaine was expecting shotguns and death threats. Kurt was expecting a nice slice of chocolate cake. Klaine.


Blaine stared from the slice of cake to Mr Hummel and back again.

"Is it poisoned?" he asked suspiciously, frowning at it.

"Why would I do that?" Mr Hummel asked.

That just made Blaine more suspicious. He looked around the room quickly, plotting avenues of escape. There was the kitchen window, beside the fridge, but it looked too small, even for someone Blaine's size. There was also the door out into the hall, but Mr Hummel was sitting between it and Blaine. He was trapped.

When Kurt had told Blaine that his father wanted to meet him, Blaine had assumed that Kurt would be there as a buffer. He'd put on his best suit, practised the smile that charmed parents in the mirror and had carefully timed his drive so that he would arrive at the Hummel household at exactly the appointed time. He'd arrived to find Mr Hummel waiting alone. Blaine had shaken Mr Hummel's hand and then followed him through to the kitchen.

Now he was being fed poisoned chocolate cake.

"Come on, take a bite," said Mr Hummel. "It's good."

Blaine picked up his fork and slowly broke off a section. He looked at Mr Hummel again before reluctantly raising the fork towards his mouth. He hesitated, fork hovering just outside his lips, then lowered it again without eating the cake.

"You know," he said, "It's traditional to wait until I've actually done something to hurt Kurt before you try to kill me. Not that I'd ever hurt Kurt, you've got to believe me. I get that you've got to threaten me with shotguns or something - it's your job as a father - but I really don't want to die." He stopped, out of breath. There was a long silence. Eventually, he forced himself to look up and meet Mr Hummel's eyes so that he could face his fate.

Mr Hummel was laughing.

"...I was at least hoping you'd feel sad about murdering me," Blaine muttered.

"...You thought..." Mr Hummel said, struggling to keep a straight face. "Oh, God."

"What was I supposed to think?" Blaine asked. He put the fork down on the plate and pushed it away slightly.

Mr Hummel sighed. "If there's anyone I'd be wanting to have that talk with, it's that girl Finn brought home, but he'd never talk to me again. Kurt... He's strong, even though he doesn't realise it. Don't get me wrong, I _would_ kill anyone who hurt him, but I wouldn't have to because Kurt would beat me to it. I'd fight and die for him, but he's the one who tries to protect me, more often than not."

Blaine frowned slightly. "So, what is this about, Mr Hummel?"

"Burt," he said. "And it was about me meeting this 'Blaine' person my son's been going on about for months now. I wanted to get to know you, since it seems like you're gonna be important in Kurt's life. That's all."

"Oh," said Blaine quietly. He picked up his fork again, then stopped, frowning. "...Are you sure that this isn't a way to trick me into eating poisoned chocolate cake?"

"Please," said Burt. He picked up his own fork and took a large chunk from his own cake. "That'd be a damned waste of good chocolate cake." He swallowed it, obviously savouring the taste. "That's delicious. You know, if Kurt was here, he'd never let me eat it. Always going on about my cholesterol."

Blaine watched incredulously as Burt gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"So," said Burt, "What do you think of the Buckeyes' chances this year?"

Afterwards, when Kurt had arrived home, Blaine led him down into the basement.

"Why didn't you warn me?" he hissed.

Kurt blinked. "Warn you?"

"About your Dad. And how I'd be alone with him. He tried to poison me and then he gave me a long talk and made me feel really confused."

"Huh." Kurt sounded confused. "I thought he was going to offer you chocolate cake."

"Actually, that was it, in a nutshell." Blaine's shoulders drooped slightly. "He was really friendly."

"There you go, then."

"But that's not how it's supposed to go!" Blaine waved his hands around madly to convey his frustration.

"I don't know what you're complaining about." Kurt smiled warmly at Blaine.

"He told me that we have to _use condoms_." Blaine looked at Kurt, pleading for sympathy. Part way through their discussion of the Buckeyes, Burt had off-handedly brought up the topic of safe sex. Blaine had never been more mortified.

Kurt blushed slightly. "Yeah, he told me the same thing. I told him we're nowhere near that, not yet, anyway. He said that he just had to make sure." He shrugged, helplessly. "Fathers. What can you do?"

"Well, he didn't have to offer me chocolate cake," Blaine muttered. "I think I've gone off the stuff for life."

Kurt threw a pillow at him. "Oh, come on. It can't have been that bad."

Blaine threw the pillow back at him. "...Well, I guess it wasn't. Still. Some warning might have been nice."

"Sorry," said Kurt, though he didn't seem to quite get what he was expected to be sorry for.

"By the way, my dad's been asking to meet you," said Blaine. His tone was apologetic.

"That's great," said Kurt, not sounding the least bit sarcastic. "Let me know when and then you can help me pick out what to wear."

A week later, Kurt drove to the address Blaine had given him. He checked his watch as he arrived. He was slightly late. Oh, well. No one expected a guest to arrive right on time, he figured. He climbed out of his car. He hoped that they'd have something nice waiting for him - not chocolate cake, since that would do unspeakable things to his hips, but maybe a nice salad. That's what Dad would have done if Blaine cared about calories; he'd asked Kurt about what Blaine liked to eat before their meeting.

As Kurt walked up the drive, he noticed a short man with a strong resemblance to Blaine sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. A shotgun rested across his knee.

Kurt gulped and fought the urge to run away. He took a deep breath, unconsciously whispering the mantra Blaine had texted him so many times - _courage_ - and stepped forward to face his doom.

The man cocked the gun as Kurt approached. Kurt flinched slightly, but was proud that he managed to quench his instinct to jump into the garden to hide. The rose bush looked like it would make good cover, after all. He took another step forward.

"Hello," he said, in his most confident voice. "My name is Kurt Hummel."

The man gave him a once over. "You're the boy who's dating my son?"

"That's right," said Kurt. He offered his hand. When the man didn't take it, Kurt allowed it to fall back to his side. "Nice gun," he said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"This is my baby," the man said, sliding his hand along the polished wood. If he hadn't been so terrified, Kurt's dirty teen gay mind would have led him to make a joke about the gesture; as it was, his eyes followed closely as the man's fingers slid closer to the trigger. "Blaine is my other baby," the man continued. "When he told me that he's gay, I realised that eventually he'd bring a man home and that man would probably be taller and stronger than him. I bought this so that I could tell that hypothetical man that if he ever hurts my son, well... Let's say that damaging one baby of mine would cause the man to become _intimately_ acquainted with my other baby."

Kurt stayed stock still, eyes fixed on the gun. "Yes, sir," he said. He didn't dare say anything else, not while Mr Anderson was holding _that_.

"Good," he said. "And you two better keep your hands off each other. My Blaine is a boy of good repute - I'm not going to have anyone leading him astray, even if he assures me that you're quite the gentleman and that that's not going to happen until he's at least thirty."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said again.

Mr Anderson stood up. "...You'd better follow me inside." He beckoned with the gun for Kurt to follow him.

As Kurt followed Mr Anderson, he mentally cursed Blaine for not warning him. He'd been expecting chocolate cake, God damn it.


End file.
